Monday, September 12, 2016

Prompt #12: "You have just swallowed your pride and done something you didn't want to do. Your friend wants to know why. The two of you are driving around an almost-filled parking garage looking for a space for the friend's oversize pickup. Write the scene."

"So you did it?" Marcus asked while looking the other way, turning into the garage and immediately looking for a good spot. He turned the radio down, so that perhaps the empty spot's calls would more easily reach him.

I hesitantly responded "Yeah," as slowly and quietly as if I were just beginning to overcome the effects of tranquilizer. I was sunken into my seat, and only passively looking for parking by leaning my face against the passenger side window.

"I thought you hated this kind of work!"

"Yeah"

"So... why?"

I responded with a deep and sorrowful sigh, then with the emotional foundation laid, I built on it with logic. "It's the best choice, I guess. Better than looking around for another job."

"Wouldn't it be better than other jobs altoge-" He cut himself off as he swerved toward a spot before slamming on the brakes. "Dangit... motorcycle. ... Wouldn't it be better than other jobs altogether? I mean, your dad owns the place so it's not like you could be fired."

"False. I can very easily be fired. More-so, probably. Most of the other people who work there already hate me just because I'm his son. They assume I will get special treatment."

"Will you?"

"Not yet, not aside from getting to carpool with the boss. There's one to the right!"

Marcus swerved again, the large truck shifting it's weight onto it's enormous tires, and we came very close to rear-ending a smart car.

"Dangit" we said in unison.

Marcus carefully backed back up and continued spiraling upwards to higher parking levels.

After a moment of silence to respect our loss of convenient parking, I spoke, "It's just not what I'd really like to be doing, y'know? But he said I had to get my own job, start pulling my own weight, buying my own things, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah blah..."

"I mean... you're what... thirty-four? Kinda makes sense." Marcus said while eyeing every line on the cement suspiciously.

"No, it doesn't! If that's what he wanted he should have asked when I was in my prime hiring age! Not when I was set in my ways as a stay-at-home beneficiary of his work."

"I guess so." Marcus agreed in a way that told me he was in no way guessing so.

"Let's just hurry this up a little?" I complained as the slow movement and constant bumping from unevenly laid rebar started to take its toll on my patience.

"Trying, bud, but it's crowded today."

"Just go to the top, no one ever goes all the way up."

"Unless they have to."

"Well, we have to."

Marcus sped up a bit as we ascended past the fourth, fifth, and sixth floor. The seventh floor was the last floor with any cover from the sun, and it also had a fair number of spaces open.

Triumphant, I started gathering my things "Told you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get out." He said as he pulled into a spot with another open beside it.

"Did you just take up two spaces?"

He peered out his window, "Maybe?"

"You're whats wrong with the world," I shamed him as I opened my case to check that the contents were all in order. "It's the fifth floor east side, right? Blue curtains?"

"Yep. Did you bring the silencer?"

I mocked his question by imitating the cadences through gibberish. "Of course I did, dummy. I'm new to the job not new to the work." I stepped out of the truck and went off to the vantage point.